


ninety eight percent

by megeggsalad



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Death, Depression, FUCKING ALSO, Family Member Death, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Oh also, and uhhhhhh, im so sorry in advance, im stupid and i forget tags, literally its not bad at all but just in case, okay so there's dogs inthis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megeggsalad/pseuds/megeggsalad
Summary: Auston takes Mitch’s hand, and does not run away.





	ninety eight percent

**Author's Note:**

> oh god hello it's been so long since i've posted anything? my bad tbh i've been going through a depressive episode
> 
> this isn't betaed and i'm sorry
> 
> EDIT: i pulled the worldbuilding for this directly out of my ass. in this world, we’ve evolved technologically enough to live sustainably in antarctica but not enough to leave dog sledding behind. im sorry. it worked with the narrative
> 
> ANOTHER EDIT: here is a playlist https://open.spotify.com/user/megbuckley12/playlist/2nrEJaMkK6q9rpI5EXeAaQ
> 
> to corey and jay and lotts and especially, especially kait, my love my life, this fic would not exist without you and your excitement for it, and i love you all so deeply.
> 
> and to luka. of course.

The dogs were getting too cold, and Auston missed Mitch. 

Which, like--that was normal. Both things. All of it. The dogs should be used to the cold by now--they lived in fucking Antarctica, so like, yeah--but even Auston wasn’t used to the cold, so he couldn’t really blame them for whining at him about it. He checked their paws, and put more ointment on them even if they weren’t cracked, because he could never and would never be too careful when it came to them. 

They were mostly here for search and rescue, and when the scientists needed to travel by sled, but also, Auston sort of thought, to keep moral up, because Antarctica was cold and lonely and colorless, and that could get pretty depressing pretty quickly. 

Well--Mitch always said it was beautiful, and seemed so at home in the ice and snow. Auston didn’t hate the place, either--far from it, actually, but he missed the sun’s heat, sometimes, and missed trees and technology and-- 

Mitch, mostly. 

He checked his last dog’s paws and headed inside, because it was getting dark fast. 

Mitch was only back on the mainland for a week at most. It had already been three days. 

He’d be back soon. 

Auston would be fine. 

*** 

Auston had grown up here, surrounded by ice and snow and cold. His parents were scientists, explorers; intelligent and amazing and his heroes. They believed the frozen continent could be habitable, upon arrival, and although that belief never changed, Auston always sort of thought they weren’t too sure, after a while, if it should be habitable. 

His mother used to tell him they lived in heaven on earth, and even after fingers frozen nearly to the point of frostbite, and broken bones from tripping on the hidden obstacles of the ice, and hypothermia, once, from falling in the water for a few seconds before his father could get him out of danger, Auston believed her. 

She grew up in the desert, she used to tell him, when he couldn’t sleep for the storms outside their base. She grew up in the sand and sun and heat of the Arizona desert, and she had loved it there, too. Just as wild and beautiful and unknowable as the arctic terrain. 

She’d met his father there, too, at the college they both graduated from with honors. They’d been determined to change the world, and Auston was always convinced they had. They wouldn’t have needed to, of course, because Auston loved them more than his heart could ever quantify. 

His sisters, both of them, got out as soon as they could. They’d gotten accepted to any college they applied to, as their resumes were slightly--different, than anyone else’s. 

He’d been to America twice, apparently, when he was small. Once for his actual birth, because that was incredibly unsafe in the Antarctic, which Auston always thought was common sense, and again when he got sick when he was two and needed more care than could be provided in the tundra. 

The third time he went back-- 

He doesn’t like to remember that, much. 

*** 

Mitch Marner arrives in the middle of his second year straight--with one three week break the December of the first year because of a horrible storm--and Auston doesn’t really notice him. 

He knows Marner’s coming, of course. A new marine biologist always catches his attention. 

His mother was a marine biologist. 

But Marner arrives, quietly, at around 5am one morning, and Auston is one of the few awake on the base, but Marner goes right to his room for some sleep, and Auston can’t really blame him for that. Marner flew in straight from Canada, which is a fucking nineteen hour flight. That sounds nightmarish, to Auston--half the reason he won’t go back to Arizona and see his father and sisters in person is the flight time. 

Marner wakes up from his nap exactly two hours later, because that’s when the base-wide alarm goes off when it’s dark all day. 

He meets Auston exactly an hour later, because the hourly alarm on Auston’s watch is going off when Marner walks in the door to the kennels with a few other staff at his side, giving him the tour, most likely. 

Morgan Rielly, the resident climate equipment manager, claps his shoulder. “Auston, man, this is Doctor Mitch Marner, our new marine biologist.” 

Mo is kind to Auston, and helps him with the dogs, sometimes, and they’re sort of friends--or they would be, if Auston wanted that. 

“Doctor,” Auston says, holding out a hand for Marner to shake. He’s probably about Auston’s age. “You look a little young for that.” 

Marner shrugs goodnaturedly, though Mo’s sharp look tells Auston that was probably rude. And, like--yeah. It was. 

“Got through high school pretty quick and took extra courses in college,” Marner explains, not meeting Auston’s eyes. “I was, uh, fourteen when I got my bachelor’s, so I didn’t really have to, like, work, or anything.” 

“Damn,” Auston says, quietly impressed. “Do you want to meet the dogs?” 

“Yes, please,” Mitch says, looking markedly less uncomfortable, and so he meets the dogs, and is kind to them, and Auston spends the rest of the day very pointedly not thinking about Doctor Mitch Marner’s smile. 

The rest of that day, and the rest of the 689 days after that. 

*** 

Auston doesn’t quite know when he started counting the days. He’s pretty sure it was his tenth birthday, because whenever he tries to do the math to get back to day one, it always lands around then, but he’s horrible with numbers and always messes up, so he’s never really certain. He also isn’t quite sure why--he vaguely remembers something about his older sister saying she wanted to count the days until she could get back to somewhere warm. 

The second part, he didn’t really understand, because the base was home, but he thought about the counting thing, and he liked it. 

He must’ve been a pretty smart kid, he thought, to understand that to grow up the way he did was a story waiting to be told. 

When he got to one thousand, his mother made him a cake. It was a rare treat, but they’d somehow had the supplies, and--well, for a thousand days counted, Auston got a cake. He wrote his college essay about that cake, about what it meant to him to have a mother who loved him enough to gather the supplies and make it for him, even when they had so little. 

It takes Marner seventy-eight days to make his way back down to the kennels. He’s just gotten back from a ride with Doctor Brown, their resident astronomist, and Doctor Hyman, one of their astrophysicists. Marner is waiting for him when he gets back, kneeling down in front of Carly’s kennel. Carly’s been down and out for a few days with cracked paws, and that’s what Mitch is talking to her about as he scratches her ears. 

Auston lets the dogs loose, and while some of them go straight to their kennels to sleep, some of them sniff curiously at Mitch--about what he had expected. Nala, his head runner, goes straight over to Mitch, and after a few moments, starts to lick at his hand, which--unexpected. She doesn’t like most people on a good day, and she is exhausted now. 

Brown and Hyman mutter goodbyes as they strip off their gear, and Auston kind of regrets letting them go, because he loves hearing both of them explain the world around him, but he’s too caught up watching this stranger with his dog, wondering how in the world he’s already gotten her to love him. 

Marner looks up at him, a wide smile on his face. “They’re really beautiful dogs.” 

“Thanks,” Auston says, giving him a little smile back. “The one in her kennel is Carly, and the one that’s decided to get cuddly is Nala.” He met them when he first arrived, but there are at least twenty of them, and even some of the scientists who have been here for years don’t know them all yet. 

“Hi, Nala,” Marner whispers, and scratches her ears. “What kind of puppy are you?” 

“She’s an Alaskan husky,” Auston answers, amused, “and she’s three years old now.” 

Marner waves his hand dismissively. “All dogs are puppies.” 

Auston laughs, because it’s true, and then asks, “Did you need something? I don’t want to take them out again so soon, but if you want to go out tomorrow, we can probably do that.” 

Marner tilts his head to the side for a moment, considering. Then he says, “Yeah, that should be fine. I want to take a look at a few things about three miles away from here, if that’s okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Auston says, and turns around to start putting his equipment away. “I’m usually up at about five, but I imagine you won’t want to leave until around noon, or something like that, so just--” 

“Actually, early morning would be better,” Marner replies. “I can meet you here at six? Unless you need more time to get the dogs ready.” 

“No, that--that works fine, Doctor Marner,” Auston says. Usually, the scientists aren’t willing to do shit before noon if it involves going outside, especially when the days start to get shorter and the window for daylight gets later. 

“Mitch,” the scientist corrects, giving him another smile. “And Morgan said your name is Auston, right?” 

“Good memory,” Auston says, nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six, Mitch.” 

*** 

His parents wanted him to go away for college. 

Alex had gone, and she very clearly loved it. In her letters back, and when they could video chat, she always sounded and looked so, so happy. It had been good for her, was the general concensus, and Auston definitely agreed. 

The thing was, though, was that Auston was not Alex. 

She’d chaffed at being holed up on base. She’d wanted more friends, more life, more color--Alex had always wanted more, and even though Bree was younger than both of them, Auston could tell she was the same way. 

Auston loved it on the base. He loved being surrounded by his mother and father and the other scientists, because they were people who loved what they did and the world around them and were so, so smart and interesting when asked about their fields. Auston wanted more of it, wanted to stay here in this place of knowledge and discovery. He could take online classes, that much he knew, even if their connection was spotty at best most of the time. 

He also just didn’t want to leave home. Or his parents, or Bree, while she was here. 

He started visiting the kennels in the middle of his junior year in high school. He was homeschooled, so he had the time. He visited one day, and the dog trainer, Mike, introduced him to the dogs, and after that, he just--kept going back. 

They hired him his senior year, and he started a savings account, although he probably didn’t need it. His grades were nearly flawless--because, in all honesty, he just liked to learn--and he’d been raised on the world’s first scientific study base in Antarctica, for god’s sake. 

The dogs were--well, they were dogs, and they were energetic and lively and didn’t care about college or life or any of it, and they loved him when he came to work and were sad when he left, and they just loved him with no strings attached, and he loved them too, and there was something to be said about loving something just to love it. 

“There’s always a need for another trainer, here,” Mike told him, one day. “You could stay, and I’d hire you, and it’d be sustainable.” 

He could hear his father’s voice in his ear, just then: There’s a life outside these walls, Auston. You could meet someone there you’d never in a million years meet here, you could find a place or a career you love. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Auston had said, and went back to brushing out one of the dogs’ fur. 

Mike nodded, and left him to it. 

Auston enrolled in Boston University two weeks later. 

*** 

Mitch is five minutes early. The dogs are beyond ready to go, because once they’re harnessed and know they’re about to go out, they get impatient fast. 

“Who are they all?” Mitch asks. He looks awake, but he’s sipping coffee, so Auston’s not really sure. 

He likes that, too--who are they. It makes him feel like Mitch understands that his dogs have personalities, that they’re individuals, not just a team of tools to use whenever the scientists need them. 

“You met Nala yesterday,” he says, pointing to his lead. “And those are Luke and Leia, my samoyeds--” 

“You did not name them after Star Wars characters,” Mitch says, eyes wide with delight. 

“We live on Hoth,” Auston replies, and Mitch laughs out loud. 

Warmth fills Auston’s stomach, and he grins. “Anyway, Doctor, that’s Sasha, my malamute, and then there’s Jax, another husky like Nala.” He’d picked a five dog team because--honestly, just because he’d wanted to, and most of these dogs hadn’t gotten to run yesterday, so they were anxious to do something. 

The ride was smooth. They hooked up their mics and headsets right before they set out, and Mitch asked him about the dogs, how he’d gotten them and why he picked the ones he did and how old they were. He explained that most of them were rescues, actually, that a lot of the dogs they’d had here when he was a kid were retired because of their age or persistent injury, and now had pretty good homes. All of his current dogs were younger than seven, and all of them had come to him from shelters, except the samoyed twins, who he’d found and rescued from some shitty, abusive breeder. 

“That’s--so cool, man,” Mitch said, when he was done talking. “I never would have thought you’d be able to pull something like that off from down here.” 

Auston shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. My parents know a lot of people, so it’s easier with their contacts and help.” 

“Where do they live?” Mitch asked, which--harmless question. 

Auston manages to choke out, “Arizona.” 

“Different than here,” is all Mitch says, holding out an arm, which Auston is pretty sure is supposed to emphasize that he’s wearing at least five layers of clothing, and so he laughs. 

“I can’t remember the last time I left my room without at least two layers of clothing, so yeah,” Auston says. “What about your parents?” 

“Back in Toronto,” Mitch answers smoothly, and even though he’s wearing a face ask, Auston glances over and thinks he can see him smiling. “My brother lives there, too, so when I get to video call, I can see all of them at the same time.” 

“Nice,” Auston says, because that’s really cool. He wishes he didn’t have to choose between his family members every time he got to call. “How do they feel about you coming here?” 

“They know it’s what I want,” Mitch answered, “so they miss me, but they support me, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Auston says, even though he really doesn’t. Mitch falls quiet, likely reading the tone of Auston’s voice. 

It doesn’t take the dogs long to get them where Mitch wants to go, and Auston just watches while he observes the penguins--Auston hadn’t even realized this flock lived so close to base, and wondered if they were just migrating through. 

“They’ve been here for a few days,” Mitch whispers when Auston asks. “So I don’t know. Maybe. I’m monitoring them to see what happens.” 

It’s--something, to watch him do his work, and Auston feels bad, almost, when he knows the dogs are getting too cold to be out and not running any more, so he has to call Mitch back. 

“I got enough information anyway,” Mitch says. His eyes are glowing, and Auston feels his body physically soften at the sight. 

And then--Mitch stays, to help Auston put the dogs back in their kennels and rub ointment on their paws and get them warmed up, and-- 

He tells Auston he might be back to see the dogs, sometime. 

Auston tells him to stop by whenever he wants. 

*** 

“So, like, do you think the dogs understand your emotions?” 

Auston almost drops the harness he’s holding at the sound of Mitch’s voice behind him. 

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks, bewildered, and turns around. Mitch is kneeling next to Leia’s cage, and she’s come to greet him, sniffing delicately at the hands he’s offered her. He comes often enough now that the dogs all know him, but Leia’s just like that, soft and gentle every time she greets someone. 

“Yeah, okay, so,” Mitch says. “When I was little, I had this dog that could like--I swear to god, he could sense my emotions. He always came to lay with me when I was sad in high school, you know? And I was, like, young, when I was in high school, so? I was convinced he could understand my emotions.” 

Auston shrugs, considering it. “Probably, man, I don’t know. Leia definitely, and I have this theory that she and Luke have a telepathic twin bond--” 

“Good theory,” Mitch interrupts. “Probably true.” 

“Yeah, dude, I know, I’ve had them since they were babies,” Auston says, huffing out a little laugh. “Anyway, yeah. Nala’s definitely tuned into everything going on around her, like--she knows exactly what’s going on, she just only cares about certain things, you know? So I think, at that level, she can?” 

“Dogs are just like people, man,” Mitch says, standing up and walking over to Auston. “They have, like, personalities and everything.” 

“Not to be rude, or anything, but fucking duh, Mitch,” Auston says, and Mitch pretends to look offended for all of two seconds before reaching to help Auston put away his and the dogs’ gear. 

They have this little routine, now--Mitch shows up at around seven in the morning and helps Auston with whatever he’s doing at the time, and then they sit around and play with the dogs for a while, before Mitch has to go do actual work, and it’s generally the best few hours of the day for Auston. If Auston goes out, he leaves a note for Mitch, who usually just stays and bonds with the dogs Auston doesn’t have with him. 

“Aus?” Mitch’s voice is kind of quiet, now, and when Auston looks over to him, he’s not looking at Auston. “It’s--I just noticed that you don’t ever come to the dining hall to eat, and like--there was this movie night the other night, and I didn’t see you there, so I just--I don’t know, man, we’re friends, right? And I--I don’t know.” 

“I eat, Mitch.” Auston doesn’t know how to quantify this--Mitch is worried about him, he and Mitch are friends. Which, they are. They are friends, and Auston knows this, but it’s still--jarring, to hear it out loud. 

“Yeah, okay, but--” Mitch cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, and Auston realizes that, yeah, he’s being a little difficult. 

“I just--don’t socialize much,” Auston says, shrugging it off. He doesn’t want to talk about this. 

“No, Auston, you don’t socialize at all,” Mitch says, and yeah, okay, that’s true. “It’s like--it’s not sustainable, and a lot of the people here really like you, man.” 

A few names fly through his head: Morgan, Brown, Hyman. 

“I have--a friend,” Auston says, awkwardly. “My vet--his name’s Freddie, he’s just not on site right now.” 

Freddie’s been off site for three months now, doing some rescue vet work in Europe, Auston’s pretty sure. And he isn’t lying--they are pretty good friends, actually. He hears from Freddie on occasion, and misses him. He’s scheduled to come back in about a week, which Auston is admittedly excited for. 

“Okay, where is that friend? It’s your vet, right? And he’s offsite?” 

Shit. Auston didn’t think Mitch would know that. 

“Listen, Mitch--” 

“Just once, come to dinner, or something,” Mitch interrupts, apparently not wanting to listen. “Come on, man, I know you’ve got to be lonely. I was, when I was a little kid alone in higher education.” 

“Didn’t know you were an undergrad psych major,” Auston says, but there’s no heat behind it. “One dinner?” 

“Just once, please,” Mitch says, quietly, like he knows he’s pushing on a bruise that’s still sore. 

“Tell me when to meet you,” Auston sighs, and Mitch’s face lights up, and-- 

Yeah. He can do this. Just once. 

*** 

Jack Eichel is sort of an arrogant douchebag frat boy, but he’s also incredibly smart and works a babysitting job and is Auston’s roommate, so like, he learns to love him. 

Like, okay. He’s watched Jack down six shots in a row and then throw them all up on someone else’s car not three hours later, but he’s also visited Jack at work and seen him hold two babies at once, talk to a parent, and coo lovingly at the children in his arms at the same time, so it’s kind of hard to take him too seriously when he tries to be a dick on purpose. 

“You’re a nice guy,” Auston says, accusing, when Jack talks him through the overcomplicated prompt for his sociology essay. 

“Slander,” Jack says, voice flat, and then probably goes back to sexting his boyfriend, Noah, who goes to school back where they grew up in Boston. 

“The longer you fight it, the more true it becomes,” Auston points out, and then goes back to his homework, because he doesn’t really care if Jack’s lack of self awareness rivals the lead male character on a shitty sitcom. 

“I’m an asshole,” Jack says, and Auston literally laughs at him. 

“You hang out with children for fun,” he says. 

“I get paid for that,” Jack fires back, and Auston just laughs harder. 

Auston doesn’t hate it here, generally. His roommate, as stated, is generally okay, and Auston’s not that into getting blackout drunk, but he can party on the weekend if he wants to, so that’s nice. The food sucks, but so does all college food, apparently, and his dorm is air conditioned, so that’s nice. His classes are decently hard, which is kind of awesome, because he genuinely loves to learn--he can thank his parents for that, and does--and it’s nice, he guesses. 

He misses home. 

His parents only get two video calls a month, and he only gets one of them, because Alex is in school right now, too. She doesn’t talk to him often, just checks in when she feels like it, he guesses. 

And he just--misses it all. He misses the dogs and the cold and the base and exploring and movie nights with his parents and learning without grades. 

He sort of feels like his friends are starting to notice. 

Jack definitely does. He got home from a party one weekend much earlier and much less drunk than Auston thought he would be, and walked into the dorm to Auston crying into his pillow, because that’s what he does when Jack is out, usually. It’s pathetic. He knows this. 

Jack tries his best, just kind of sits with him for a while and talks about Boston and boyfriend-Noah-who-is-not-really-boyfriend-officially--which, stupid, because they’re so in love it makes Auston’s teeth hurt--and waits for Auston to calm down before he says, “I know you were, like, isolated for a long time, and I figured you must be pretty close to your family, so like--if you ever wanna talk about it, I guess, man.” 

Auston gives him a watery smile. “Soft,” he says, and Jack sticks his tongue out at him, and Auston feels a little better. 

So when he calls his parents and his mother says, “Sweetheart? We’re flying into the States in a week,” he feels like he should be glad, not concerned. 

But he is. Concerned. 

“Why?” he asks, and hopes he doesn’t sound too ungrateful. “I mean, I’m glad, but--” 

“I have to visit a specialist,” his mother says, and Auston can hear his heart start to beat faster. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, swallowing down his anxiety. 

His mother’s smile is tired. She looks thinner, and the bags under her eyes are more pronounced than normal. He hates himself, for a moment, for not noticing the change sooner. 

“It should be fine, sweetheart,” she says, but he knows she doesn’t believe that, just from the tone of her voice. 

“Mama,” he says, voice pleading. 

“We’ll tell you when we know more, love,” his mother says, and--that stings. He just wants to know what’s happening. “I will be okay.” 

Something beeps, and Auston has to bite back a curse. That means they have a minute before the call drops. 

“We’ll tell you when we land,” she says, and gives him a truer smile. “And we’ll work out a way to come see you, okay?” 

“Okay, Mom,” he says. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Auston,” she says, and hangs up. 

*** 

Mitch tells him to meet him for dinner in the dining hall the next day--giving him time to think, probably. 

Auston knows this isn’t the end of the world. He also knows he is lonely, and that Mitch is right about all of that, but he just--he doesn’t really know what to do. He hasn’t actively tried to connect with anyone here, doesn’t really know them at all, beyond the most basic things. 

He sort of feels guilty for it. 

Mitch is practically vibrating with excitement when Auston meets him as promised. “I sort of thought you wouldn’t show up,” he admits, and Auston winces. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

Mitch raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t need to apologize for that, man.” 

“Right,” Auston says, and shoves his shaking hands in his pockets. This just--isn’t that big a deal, he tells himself, because it isn’t. He is way, way overreacting. 

The dining hall is set up like a restaurant, mostly to give the illusion of comfort. Mitch’s group of friends--colleagues?--takes the group of booths in the back, apparently, and they all yell very loudly when Mitch walks up, Auston following, some variation of Mitch’s name and various nicknames. 

“They call you Mitchy Mouse?” he asks, because that’s funny. 

“Because he’s so skinny,” Morgan supplies, and cracks up like that’s hilarious. 

“I’m sorry I’m not thick enough for you, Mo,” Mitch says, sarcastic, and it warms Auston’s heart, a little. He’s comfortable here--happy among these people. 

“Glad you could join us, Auston,” Zach Hyman says, soft in his way, and honestly, Auston expected something more--maybe the teasing they gave Mitch, but a little harsher. He was expecting something, at least, but no one else says anything, just asks him how the dogs are and who’s been going out lately. 

And it’s--nice. It’s really nice. They’re all really interesting, too, and what they’re here to study could change the world. Sometimes, Auston feels like he forgets that, because--well, he doesn’t interact with them nearly at all. Connor is studying the disappearance of star patterns and constellations as a result of global warming, and he’s here because this is still the only place in the world relatively unaffected by light pollution. Zach is helping, sort of, but he’s mostly here on observation, and because some of the technology here is unavailable anywhere else on the planet. 

“So, did you have fun?” Mitch is walking with him back to his room, like they’re teenagers on a first date. 

“It was nice, Mitch, thank you for inviting me,” Auston says, overly formal on purpose. They both laugh, and Auston stops outside of his room just as he finishes giggling. 

“Will you come again?” Mitch asks, and Auston would be lying if he said he thought this wouldn’t happen. 

“We’ll see,” he says, gently, because--well. Because a lot of lame excuses he’s going to have to talk himself out of using later. 

Mitch nods, like he expected that. “That’s--good, Auston, that’s good,” Mitch says, sounding so relieved it makes Auston think he’s picked up on a lot more than Auston realized. Which-- 

Auston doesn’t want to think about that, right now. 

“Goodnight, Mitch,” he says, gently. 

Mitch smiles at him. “Goodnight, Auston.” 

Auston walks into his bedroom, sits down on his bed, and starts to cry. 

*** 

His first trip off base after college is to a breeder in Northern Canada who raises samoyed puppies for racing. 

He goes alone, because he feels like he has to. Canada is nice, actually. Cold, but he’s used to that. 

When he sees how this man treats his dogs, he grips his own arm so hard he leaves marks so that he does not physically attack him. The kennels are fucking filthy, and there’s barely any food in the dogs’ bowls. What food is there is very clearly old and molded, and the water looks tepid and stale. One of the dogs has a cut above his eye. Auston desperately does and does not want to know where it came from. 

“The puppies,” he manages to grind out. “Where are they?” 

“Here,” the breeder says, grinning. “These two.” 

Staring up at him from one of the middle kennels are two of the smallest samoyed puppies he’s ever seen. They’re way too skinny, and they’re so dirty he can’t even tell what color their fur is--it’s probably white, too, and that pisses him off even more. He reaches out a hand to them, gently, and one moves forward, gently sniffing his hand, and then the other follows. When he feels two tiny tongues licking his hand gently, his heart breaks. 

“I have to make a phone call,” he chokes out. 

Obviously, he calls the cops. 

He doesn’t have to pay a dime, and the breeder is arrested. 

The puppies are white, which he discovers when he brings them back to his hotel and washes them off gently in his bathtub. He gives them food, and clean water, and lets them curl up on the bed with him. They’re asleep almost immediately, warm in the crook of his side and curled together. 

“Collars,” he whispers to himself, talking himself through the list of things he needs to do for them. “Collars, microchips, appointment with Freddie. Names.” 

One is male, one is female. They’re twins. 

He remembers, suddenly, watching Star Wars in the dark of a winter day with his parents when he was ten. 

“Luke and Leia,” he whispers, softly, and the little girl wakes up, just barely, to blink sleepily up at him once, and then falls back asleep. 

That pretty much makes the decision for him. 

*** 

Auston’s parents cut the bullshit after they meet Jack. Which goes fine--apparently, Jack knows how to turn on the charm for parents. 

They bring him back to their hotel room and sit him down and he knows it’s bad before they even say anything. 

He sort of--floats away, for this entire conversation. He hears the words stage four breast cancer and runs in the family and chance at treatment, but nothing really settles in. His parents tell him they’re going to be moving to New York, because apparently there’s a good treatment program there. They tell Auston not to transfer schools, because everything is going to be okay, probably, and he shouldn’t worry. 

When they leave, he looks up the statistics. 

He cries for two hours, after that. Jack looks a little lost, like he has no idea how to tackle this, and Auston can’t really blame him at all, because he has no idea how to tackle this, either. His mother is his--his everything, god, he loves her so much, and he can’t even think-- 

He cries so much he makes himself sick, and does actually throw up, and Jack rubs a hand up and down his back and mutters, “Fuck, Auston,” and yeah, that’s pretty accurate. He wishes he could tell Jack how much he appreciates this, because neither of them are really the touchy-feely friend types--they’re both too caught up in the stereotypical bro mindset for that--so this feels strange, and out of both of their leagues, but Jack’s here anyway, and that means a lot. 

Auston feels--unbalanced. For a long time after that. He doesn’t end up transferring schools, because Boston to New York isn’t that bad by train, and he can get up and back easily enough. 

He gets most of his information from Bree. When Mom has a bad day, he knows, when Mom has a good day, he usually cries. He wants her to be happy and safe and not in pain, but none of those things are true, and that hurts him. 

Alex calls, sometimes, and skypes, and that’s--that’s always nice. Weird, because he feels like she disappeared for a while, and he didn’t realize he missed her, but now that she’s back in his life, he realizes he did, and she is honest with him, and he loves her for that. 

“It’s bad,” she says, quietly, one night, when they’re both doing homework over skype. 

“I know,” Auston whispers back, and she reaches out, touches the screen, and he aches for her, just then. 

“It’ll get better,” she says, still quiet, like if she speaks any louder it’ll turn into a lie. 

His father tells him about the surgery his mother’s doctors are suggesting about two weeks later, and that memory feels almost prophetic, in his mind. 

“It’ll be--there’s a ninety-eight percent success rate,” his father says, and he only sounds so flat because he wants to hold back his hope, Auston knows. “After that, almost guaranteed chance of recovery, if the cancer hasn’t spread beyond what’s treatable.” 

“That’s,” Auston says, and then can’t find the word. His father is silent over the phone, but Auston thinks he’s nodding. 

“She’s been talking about going back to base, your mother,” his father says, voice not just soft in volume. “She misses the snow.” 

So do I, Auston thinks, in his heart of hearts, and knows, suddenly, that his mother understands him in a way he’d never considered before. They shared a home, in the Antarctic and the snow and each other, and-- 

“She’ll get better soon,” Auston whispers, and something in his chest starts to burn. 

*** 

They were always either quiet or talking, Auston realizes. And--that sounds like an obvious conclusion, but it’s more like-- 

They’re always either together in a companionable silence, or talking about important things. Or maybe it’s that everything he told Mitch, and everything Mitch told him, feels important. Auston wants to lock every word Mitch gave him into his heart and keep them all there forever, and sometimes that feeling is overwhelming, for how unending it feels, and sometimes he has to stop talking altogether, and Mitch gets that. And Auston knows Mitch gets that, the being overwhelmed, because he stops talking himself, usually, when he picks up on it, and touches a hand to Auston’s arm, and asks him quietly if he wants Mitch to keep talking or not. Auston usually says yes, because Mitch’s voice always touches him gently, soothes the itch in his skin, but if he says no, Mitch understands that, too, and doesn’t ask any more of him, just falls silent. 

And it’s--that’s not nothing. 

Mitch is probably his best friend, and so Auston tells him this. 

“Why are you crying, oh my god,” Auston says, next, because Mitch is crying, and fuck, he was not prepared for this. He reaches out, sort of unsure how to help here. “Please don’t cry, Mitch.” 

“I’m not sad,” Mitch says, and smiles at Auston. “It’s just--same, and I love you, is all.” 

“Oh,” Auston says, quietly, and then Mitch reaches for him back, and pulls Auston into a hug, and even when Mitch lets go, Auston doesn’t want him to. Mitch keeps a hold of one of his hands, though, and that’s--really nice. 

“So, now that this is an official thing, you know you’re never getting rid of me, right,” Mitch says, and just then Leia pads up to where they’re sitting--against the front wall, facing the kennels--and drapes herself all over both of them, which feels so fitting Auston has to laugh a little. 

“Does this mean I have to come to dinner more often now?” Auston asks, mostly joking, but Mitch frowns. 

“Only when you want to,” he says, and then frowns some more. “I don’t want you to feel like--you have to do shit because we talked about our feelings, or whatever, like--you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

And Auston feels so warm, with that. “I like dinner, though, sometimes,” he says. “It’s nice.” 

“What do you do when you don’t come to dinner with me?” Mitch asks, looking somewhat surprised at himself for not asking before. 

“I eat here, or in my room while I video call my sisters,” Auston says. “It’s just, like, easier, I guess. More peaceful.” 

Mitch is quiet for a while, and when Auston looks over, there’s this weird, pensive look on his face. Auston nudges him, a question on his lips, but before he can ask it, Mitch says, “That’s a thing for you, isn’t it? Wanting peace. And not just an I’m-Auston-Matthews-and-I’m-a-grumpy-old-man thing, right? It’s deeper.” 

Auston nods, because it is, and then smiles because of the grumpy old man comment. “It’s because--” And suddenly his throat closes up, and that’s it. He can’t talk about this now without crying, and he doesn’t want to cry, and oh--he really doesn’t want to talk about this. 

“Aus, hey,” and suddenly Mitch is there, kneeling in front of him, and Auston immediately feels a little more centered. The pressure in his throat lessens. “You don’t have to tell me now. There’s time. We have so much time, Auston.” 

“Yeah,” Auston whispers, and squeezes his eyes shut until the tears threatening to spill over fade away, and his only focus is Mitch’s hands on his shoulders. They’re warm, gentle, soft, and Mitch is stroking a finger gently over the skin on the back of Auston’s neck, and it’s nice, and he is okay. 

“I’m good,” he whispers, still feeling the sadness that sits heavy in his chest, and Leia leans up to lick his face a few times. When Mitch moved in front of him, he’d dislodged her from their laps, and she’d just sat there, waiting for her turn with Auston. Evidently, she was bored of waiting. 

“Hey, baby,” he whispers to his dog, and she starts to wag her tail. He starts stroking her fur, and Mitch joins him. 

“Didn’t you rescue her?” he asks, and Auston nods. 

“I rescued all of them, pretty much,” he answers, and it’s true. “I got her and Luke from this dick of a breeder in Northern Canada. They were two months when I got them, and still only three pounds. It was--not good.” 

“So you--you raised them,” Mitch says, sounding awed. “How did you manage that down here?” 

“Kept them in my room for a while, because they were so small and weak they’d have frozen out here.” The kennels are a little cooler than the rest of the base, because the dogs are more capable of withstanding the cold, and they need the heat elsewhere. Sometimes, Auston remembers to be mad about it. “I still let them sleep with me if they whine enough.” 

Auston can practically see the image of that in Mitch’s head, and laughs when he does, because it is pretty funny--Luke and Leia are certainly not three pounds now, and the two of them trying to share his bed with him causes more than a few problems. 

“You’re amazing,” Mitch says, soft, and Auston smiles at him. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon basking in the glow of Mitch Marner’s love. 

*** 

Mitch starts to tell him, little by little, about his--everything, really, his life and his family and his everything. He loves his parents in a really deep way, and that resonates so much in Auston’s heart that it physically hurts his chest. He and his brother are close, too, and write actual letters to each other, which--Auston thinks, for a second, of doing that with Bree or Alex, but--it’s not feasible, he thinks, and they probably wouldn’t want to do that. Not because they don’t love him, but because that’s just not who they are as people. 

His dad, though, maybe. 

Mitch was really young when he started showing a high aptitude for mathematics, and his parents were unsure of what to do with him at first, he tells Auston. 

“And then my tutor kind of took over, and they pulled me out of school, and like--that was that,” Mitch says, and sounds sad. “I blew through everything they gave me, and read a lot in my spare time, and then--okay, so, the only thing my parents really wanted me to do was try out hockey, because it’s basically a gene in all Canadian DNA, now, and so I did.” 

“And you were amazing?” Auston asks, because of course he was. 

“I was good, yeah,” Mitch says, looking down as he smiles. “I made it to the OHL and captained a team there while I was doing my second master’s, and then--that was it, I guess. I didn’t want to make the show, because I knew that if I were drafted, no one would take me seriously, and even if they did, all anyone would be able to talk about would be, like, my school shit, and besides, I like this better, anyway.” 

Auston takes a moment to smile at him, gently, and then says, “You know anyone who made the show?” 

Mitch grins. “I mean, yeah, Connor McDavid and Dylan Strome and I were, like, best friends in the O. I use almost half my video chat time on them.” 

And then Mitch laughs, because Auston is sure Mitch can tell from the look on his face that Auston has no idea who those people are. From Mitch’s tone, though, at least Connor McDavid must be a big name. 

“You’ll meet them sometime, I’m sure,” Mitch says, and turns from Auston to go back to looking at his microscope. He has half a lab here, now, which is fine because Freddie’s still home and his offices are empty. The dogs know enough not to get into anything, and if they do, Mitch is never mad, which--that’s really, really nice. 

They’re there late, as usual, and Mitch squeezes Auston’s hand before heading off to his room. Auston whistles, and the dogs settle in their kennels, and then he whistles again, lower this time, and Luke and Leia fall in step as he locks everyone else up. His dogs follow him to his room, only stopping once to lick Morgan’s hand when they pass him in the hallway. 

They curl up at the end of his bed, and then when he gets in with them, Luke settles over his feet and Leia stretches out against his back, and he sleeps like that, warm and surrounded by the gentle love of his dogs. 

He wakes up with his alarm, and immediately starts to cry. 

Leia starts to whimper as he sobs, licking at his face, and Luke paws at his feet and legs, almost like a cat trying to knead his muscles. 

It takes him a minute, but-- 

Oh. 

Because all of Auston’s body and mind and heart is calling for MitchMitchMitchMitch, and he’s not even upset, he just wants Mitch, he just loves Mitch, so goddamn much, and-- 

He just loves Mitch. 

He reaches for his phone and messages Alex, I think I’m in love with Mitch. 

She replies, I thought you knew that. 

And that’s-- 

Yeah. 

*** 

So he cries every night for about four days, and then his heart starts to settle, and then for the next few weeks Mitch will do something completely ordinary--like hold his hand or run a hand through his hair when he starts to get distant or be kind to his dogs or stay up too late one night and give Auston a sleepy smile the next morning just before he presses his forehead into Auston’s shoulder--and that’s it, Auston knows he’s going to be crying again that night. 

It hurts so much. It did before, because Auston doesn’t really feel like anything’s changed--this isn’t how he’s always felt about Mitch, he doesn’t think, but it’s just as strong and just as true and it’s just that somewhere along the way, he opened up his heart to this and fell straight into it, and it hurts because there’s so much of it, and Auston knows it’s better to do nothing. There’s no world in which he wants to have this conversation, wants to put that pressure on Mitch--he doesn’t care if Mitch answers yes or no to the question he doesn’t know how to word yet, that’s not what matters; he doesn’t want this pressure on Mitch’s heart at all, and doesn’t want things between them to change, because this love between them is strong but sweet and delicate too, and Auston hates himself for even thinking of breaking it, or hurting it. 

“You’re not even considering the possibility that it’s the same for him,” Alex chastises, one night when they’re video calling. “Listen, Aus, the way you talk about him, I knew. Of course I did. But the way you talk about both of you? It’s not, like, normal best friend shit. That one time he walked in on one of our calls to bring you dinner--I saw the way he looked at you, and listen, that is not how best friends look at each other.” 

“It’s just us,” Auston says, voice weak with the hope he doesn’t want to have. Even considering anything but how this will hurt Mitch feels like opening himself up to that hope, and that--he can’t handle that. “It’s just how we are, Alex.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Alex says, and somehow, that makes the pain in his chest hurt worse. 

His computer beeps. They only have a minute. 

“Listen,” his sister says, quiet. “I know you don’t want to, and I know you’re only thinking about how this will hurt him, but telling him isn’t the worst idea in the world. You’re hurting with this too, I know, and I know you want to tell him, so. Consider it, please.” 

And that’s true. Auston does want to tell him, if only because this feels like a really big thing that’s happening in his life, and he wants to share all that with Mitch, because it’s Mitch. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice small and quiet, “I will.” 

His computer beeps again, and he hates that his time with his sister has a limit. 

She sighs, and touches the screen. “I love you, little brother. Visit me soon, and bring your boy.” 

Auston manages a laugh. “I will. Love you too.” 

And then the call cuts out, and Auston closes his laptop and lays back down on his bed and cries, because that’s how his life is going, right now. 

*** 

Mitch gets concerned when he walks into the kennels one morning ten minutes late with red eyes and obviously tearstained cheeks. 

“Shit, Aus, hey.” He almost drops the samples he’s holding in his haste to get to Auston. Auston’s afraid he’ll cry again when Mitch touches him, takes his hands, but he takes a breath, controls himself, and doesn’t. 

“I’m good, Mitch, don’t worry,” he says, voice calm, even though he’s pretty sure he’s right on the edge of an anxiety attack. 

“You’ve been saying that a lot recently,” Mitch accuses, frowning. “Auston, please, what’s wrong?” 

Okay, and the thing is--it’s not just this thing with Mitch. 

“Seven years ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer,” he says, and suddenly he feels so even inside, like the ocean at low tide on a clear day. “She went through treatment and chemo and surgery and shit for six months, through my first year in college, and then she went into this surgery that was supposed to be a huge chunk of her treatment and had a ninety-eight percent success rate--” That number has always stuck in his head. He can’t get it out, somehow. “--and they brought her out of it early, because she started to--during surgery, she--” He’s crying. He still feels so calm inside, but there are tears dripping down his cheeks. “She didn’t make it much longer. I was holding her when she died.” 

He remembers it all so, so clearly, and it’s been living in the back of his mind for a long time now, only it’s July now, and next week it’ll be eight years exactly since he lost her. 

“Auston,” Mitch whispers, and there are tears in his eyes, too. 

“She told me to find my home,” he says, looking toward the ceiling. “She told me--she told me my dad was the foundation of hers, and the girls helped build the house, but when she had me, I was what made the house warm.” He’s not sure if that makes sense to Mitch, but it does to him. It always has, to him. “She told me that I had to build my own house, but that I needed to find someone who made my house warm. And then--she told my dad and I she loved us, and to tell my sisters she loved them, and then the drugs kicked in and she slipped into a coma, and then two days later she was gone.” 

“Auston, I--I’m so sorry,” Mitch says, and they’re both crying, now. 

“You’re that person, Mitch,” Auston says, and covers his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. “You’re--you’re my person. You would have loved her so much, Mitch, god, and--she would have loved you so much.” 

“I love her now,” Mitch says, and pries Auston’s hands from his face so he can cup Auston’s face in his own hands. “She gave me you. She gave me you, Auston, she brought you here.” 

“Shit,” Auston whispers, and Mitch pulls him close, which Auston is not sure what he wants right now. 

“Come home with me,” Mitch whispers. “I leave for Toronto for a few weeks in five days; come with me, Aus. Let me show you my home.” 

Auston starts to cry harder, and nods into Mitch’s shoulder. 

“We can hire someone for the dogs, or train someone, and just say no outings for a while,” Mitch whispers to him, cradling Auston’s head on his shoulder. “You’ll love Toronto, I promise. Promise, Aus.” 

“I love you,” Auston manages to whisper into the skin of Mitch’s neck. “I love you so much.” 

It’s as close as he can come, to telling Mitch the truth. And it is the truth, just a less specific, dulled version of it. 

He loves Mitch like--it’s like mixing paint. Bree was really into art as a kid, he remembers, and it’s like when she used to mix paint, and there was one color in the middle, but on the outside, he could still see both individual colors, but he knew he’d never really be able to separate them from each other ever again, and they wouldn’t be the same if he tried. 

That’s how he loved Mitch. That’s how it felt, in his head. 

It’s so much. It is so, so much. 

“I love you, too,” Mitch whispers, and Auston chokes on a sob. 

*** 

Toronto is beautiful. 

And Mitch--Mitch is so alive here, so full of light and wonder and love, and Auston hurts with how much it all is. 

They spend their first day sleeping, curled around each other in Mitch’s childhood bed, and then Mitch takes him sightseeing a little, while the sun is setting, and then they have dinner with Mitch’s parents, who are wonderful and full of love and Mitch starts to make just a little more sense to Auston. 

They curl back up in bed at about midnight, because sleep schedules are important, and Mitch says, “You look beautiful here,” and-- 

“I’m in love with you,” Auston says, because he can’t help it, because he’s wanted to say that so many times in the past month and a half since he figured his shit out, and because he’s tired, and Mitch makes him so weak. 

“Auston,” is all Mitch says, and runs a hand through Auston’s hair, rubbing his thumb over Auston’s forehead. 

“I understand that it’s not--the same for you, and I know--” 

“You don’t know shit, Auston Matthews,” Mitch interrupts, and Auston laughs even as tears fill his eyes. God, he is so tired of crying. 

“What?” is all he can ask, because he can’t consider-- 

“I love you too, you stupid idiot, I’ve been saying it back as best I could for a long time,” Mitch says, and Auston wants him close, close, close, and Mitch is asking, “PleasecanIkissyou,” and Auston is breathing, “Yes,” into Mitch’s mouth, and they’re laughing onto each other’s lips, and Auston has never felt more alive than in this moment. 

“I’m so glad,” Mitch murmurs, “so glad that you did this, Aus, god I love you so much--” 

And then Auston is kissing him so he’ll shut up, and there’s nothing in the world that could take him away from this moment. 

He pulls Mitch on top of him, and they’re both giggling like teenagers, and Mitch could tell him to run in front of a moving train right now and he’d do it. 

Not that he wouldn’t always, but. Right now is an exceptionally special occasion. 

“You are everything, Auston,” Mitch whispers against his mouth. “Everything.” 

“Mitch,” Auston whispers, and--he can tell from the look in Mitch’s eyes that it’s enough. 

God, he is so in love. 

*** 

He meets Dylan and Connor the next day, and finds out that Connor is like Hockey Jesus, and Dylan’s struggling but apparently exceptional, according to both Mitch and Connor. They’re really nice guys, and they make Mitch smile in a way Auston’s only seen around himself, and that makes him so, so happy. 

Connor pulls him aside. Honestly, Auston had expected Dylan to do it. 

“He--a lot of people were dicks to him when he was in high school, and then again when we were in high school, and when we played in the O,” Connor says, giving him an appraising look. “Just--people have never been kind to him.” 

“I’d probably throw myself in front of a bus rather than hurt him,” Auston says, truthfully, and Connor nods, but it’s contemplative, not accepting. 

“I don’t know you, so I don’t know what to say to that,” he says. “It’s enough for me to like you, I guess. I just--Mitch deserves kindness, and softness, and so much love, and I just--” 

“I understand what you’re saying,” Auston says, and his phone rings. 

He doesn’t catch much of the conversation, just registers the words ‘closed her outside’ and ‘she’s missing now’ and ‘Freddie flew in’ and ‘need you here.’ Mitch is in front of him, saying his name, Auston thinks, except he can’t hear anything. 

“Leia,” he whispers, “I have--I have to go home.” 

They go back to the house and book him a flight--just him, Mitch’s will be a few days later, because that’s the best they could do. 

He takes a moment to be angry that he only got one fucking day to be happy and carefree and in love, because what kind of bullshit is that, he thinks at whatever’s pulling the universe’s strings. For it to be one of his dogs, one of the ones he raised nearly from birth, who has never been disobedient in her life, who has never left the kennels without her brother--for it to be her-- 

Auston has to take a deep breath, and the red in his vision subsides a little. Mitch convinces him to sleep for a few hours, and he does that, and when he wakes up, Mitch is right where he was when Auston fell asleep, hand still stroking through Auston’s hair. 

They pack in silence, not that there was much to pack up. Auston feels a brief, intense guilt for cutting Mitch’s time home so short, and Mitch must pick up on it, because he says, “Don’t even think whatever you just thought, Auston. Don’t even go there.” 

He kisses Mitch long and slow before he boards the plane, and then spends the next nineteen hours either sleeping or angry. 

And-- 

He remembers when Leia started following him around, as a puppy. She was six months old, still too small, and wickedly smart, and he loved her so much. She started responding to his commands almost immediately, because he started training them when he started training all of his dogs, at five months, but he was still nursing Luke and Leia, because they were still so small. She’d just--slipped out of the kennels and after him when he went to run an errand one day, and that’d been it. He hadn’t had the heart to turn her away, and it wasn’t like anyone else really cared, and-- 

He loves her so much. 

Luke must be hurting so much, right now. 

They touch down after the longest day of Auston’s life, and he doesn’t even bother taking his luggage, because Connor Brown and Zach Hyman meet him at the landing strip, and they motion him forward before he can do much else. 

He tries not to sprint. 

It doesn’t work. He’s out of breath by the time he gets to the kennels, but he doesn’t even care. 

He hears Luke’s barks and whines long before he opens the door, and he doesn’t stop moving until he’s on his knees in front of his dog, inside his kennel. Luke quiets to whimpers, pushing his head over and over into Auston’s chest, and he whispers, “I know, I know, hush,” and strokes Luke’s fur until he falls asleep. 

When he looks up, Freddie’s leaning against the door of the cage. 

“Something must’ve spooked her,” he says, without preamble. He looks exhausted. Auston is so glad he’s here. “Something in here, for her to run like that.” 

Auston whistles, low but sharp, and Nala pads in. “Seek,” he commands, soft but firm, and Nala pads back out, her hackles raised. 

“I’m never leaving them again,” Auston mutters. “What the hell happened here.” 

Nala pads back in, and there’s a muzzle in her mouth. She drops it at Auston’s feet, and for a minute, all he or Freddie can do is stare. 

“Who did they hire,” Freddie says, his voice the flattest Auston’s ever heard it. “Who did they hire to take care of our dogs.” 

“I don’t know,” Auston says, and his voice sounds strangled with how angry he is. 

Freddie leaves, presumably to find out, and Auston whistles again, very softly. His dogs all pad in and settle around him, poking their cold noses at his hands as a greeting, a gentle welcome home, and he loves them all so much. 

Every piece of his heart hurts. 

*** 

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Freddie’s waking him up, eyes wide and urgent, and he knows they’ve found her. 

He also knows it’s bad. 

“Broken ribs, punctured lungs, a hind leg broken in a few places,” Freddie says, and Auston wants to throw up. He pulls himself to his feet and follows Freddie to his office. “There was a bunch of marine bio shit on my exam table when I got here. Care to explain that?” 

He would, literally any other time, but his dog is laying on the exam table, and there’s blood matted in her fur, and she tries to lift her head when she smells him come in, but yelps, and, oh, god, nothing could have ever prepared him for this. 

There’s a gash on her side, and that’s what’s making it hard for her to breathe--he can hear her rasping from here. Her hind leg is bent at an awful angle, and the way she’s holding her front paw, something’s got to be broken there, too. 

And she’s shivering. 

He doesn’t even hesitate to pull himself up on the exam table next to her. He lifts her head onto his stomach and curls around her, and she tries so hard to move and make room for him, but she just--can’t. 

“Auston,” Freddie murmurs, looking over at his machines. “Auston, she’s got hypothermia. Her organs are shutting down.” 

“No,” Auston replies, because this is not an option. 

“Auston,” Freddie says, quietly. “Auston, she’s in so much pain.” 

Auston starts to cry. 

“I have to, Auston, I--” Freddie cuts himself off. “The drugs will put her to sleep first, and then--it’ll be quick, and relatively painless.” 

Auston can’t make himself say anything. Leia strains up toward his face to lick away his tears. Her tongue is so cold against his cheek. 

He doesn’t look when Freddie injects the drugs into her IV. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers to her, gently stroking her muzzle. “You’re such a good, sweet girl, my baby girl, it’s alright, it’s going to be alright--you’re safe here, baby girl, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

He keeps talking to her as she slips into the drug-coma, giving him a few sleepy licks before her head slumps against him. 

He’s holding her when her heart stops. 

*** 

Mitch flies in two days later, and Auston hasn’t left his room. 

He burned the clothes he wore the day his mother died, and he does the same with his outfit from two days ago. They’re covered in blood, anyway, and wouldn’t be of any use. 

“Auston,” Mitch says, instead of knocking, because that’s how they are. 

Auston says nothing. 

“Auston,” Mitch repeats, more pleading this time. “Please let me in.” 

Auston opens the door, and still doesn’t say anything, and when he sees Mitch, he crumbles, knees giving out. Mitch catches him, and helps him to his bed, and his shoulders shake as he sobs silently. 

Mitch kneels in front of him, and Auston is feeling so many things. So, so many. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his mother’s death. He was supposed to have his dogs with him for it. She was only three years old. 

It hurts so, so much. 

“I know,” Mitch replies, and Auston figures he must’ve said it out loud. 

“Everything,” Auston whispers. “All of it, Mitch.” 

“I know,” Mitch says, calmly, and tilts Auston’s chin up. “You are not allowed to run away from this. You are not allowed to run away from me.” 

Auston doesn’t say anything. 

“Auston,” Mitch says, voice firm. “I love you more than the stars.” 

“To the moon and back,” Auston whispers back, because it’s what his mother used to say. 

Mitch smiles, and something in his heart lightens. 

“Your dogs miss you,” Mitch says as he stands up. He stops at the door, and extends a hand to Auston. “Are you coming?” 

Auston takes a breath and remembers his mother’s smile, lets Mitch fill the house he built in his heart with warmth. 

And Auston takes Mitch’s hand, and does not run away.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry?????????????????????? anyway uh even if you start to recover, life is still shitty a lot, and that's what the ending of this fic was trying to show, and i'm sorry for it, because i cried my way through writing it.
> 
> a psa: recovery is good and worth it and mental illness is not fun or pretty or lovely or trendy. don't run away to your own proverbial antarctica and isolate yourself from everyone. let people help you, but remember that you're the only one that can save you.
> 
> i love you all.
> 
> A THIRD EDIT: bonus content!  
> -auston and mitch probably get married like 10 months after they officially start dating  
> -auston does start writing his father  
> -auston and jack stopped talking after auston went back to antarctica, but i like to think mitch convinces auston to make a facebook and he and jack find each other  
> -mitch teaches auston about hockey and then they try to play in antarctica  
> -this fic is about learning and loving in spite of pain. that's it. that's the moral of the story. it's about auston learning to hold both pain and love in his heart and stay in spite of how overwhelming that is. anyway auston and mitch in this fic are soulmates. imma peace tf out now. i hope u enjoyed


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